As you are probably aware, yesterday Saturday the 12th, there was a huge demonstration in Copenhagen to pressure the U.N. climate meeting to come to an agreement that would put us onto the road to solving global warming and prevent the disasters that will come if we keep on the same track. Climate change is a big deal for me, as it should be for everyone, partly because of me going to the Zoo Magnet, but also because I have always been a lover of nature. So considering that Copenhagen is less than 2 hrs away from me I couldn't pass up the chance to join in. So a group of about 10 of us from my school left on Friday night for Copenhagen. The demonstration wasn't until Saturday, but there were a lot of things going on Friday night. There isn't much to say about the train ride, but I did have a bit of an epiphany. I have always wondered where Shakespeare got the name Elsinore, Hamlet's castle in Denmark, and while sitting on the train the voice said first in Swedish that the train goes to "Helsingør," then in English and said it Anglicized "Elsinore" (Maybe I am the only when who ever noticed.) When we got to Copenhagen Central station we were met by my friend Ylva's brother who had already been in Copenhagen for a few days. He took us to an info point for demonstrators where we found a place we could stay for free. After figuring out where we would be heading later that night we took a bus to the outskirts of Copenhagen to an old abandoned factory and warehouse space where we would attend a meeting planning what would happen at the demonstration. When we got there, there was a swarm of people from all over: France, Germany, Australia, England, the U.S, Canada, Sweden and Finland to name a few, all there to protest. They also were serving "donation optional" food for everyone there. If not just for the fact that it was like 1ºC out and the food was warm, the food was really good. We then all shuffled into an old warehouse where about 200 people were sitting around in a circle proposing things to do during the demonstration. There were two things that popped out to me, 1, that even with this many people with different opinions it was still orderly and calm, which to me really spoke to the fact that we all wanted the same thing and weren't going to argue about whose idea was better, and 2, there are a lot of people that jump to the conclusion that you can't get things done peacefully, but those who wanted to be "less than peaceful" agreed to march at another time and place in the city. From that point on I knew that the march was going to be a success. Later we headed over to a free concert, a group from Barcelona who played a sound I have never really heard. It was like a mix of salsa, reggae, and hard rock. Very cool. Then after that was over we hopped on a bus to go to where we were sleeping. Now even if the march wasn't an amazing experience, I would still have the story of where we slept. This bus too took us to an industrial part of the city to an abandoned warehouse. The complex reminded me of someplace you might go after a natural disaster or a zombie apocalypse. It was an empty storage house with sleeping bags, tents, and such, all laid directly on the cement floor, covering every inch of usable (legal) space. (we had to leave empty areas in case of a fire). Not to mention it was below freezing outside. My sleeping space consisted of me and my friends all lined up on the floor like sardines, side by side, all laying on top of our extra clothes and jackets for a mattress, and huddled in our sleeping bags. It wasn't the best night of sleep I have ever had, but all the sleeping people's breath and body heat warmed up the air, plus my sleeping bag goes down to-10º. I actually ended up opening it up in the middle of the night because I was sweating. We woke up the next morning to a chilly Danish winter. Why is it that the day I am going to be sleeping in a warehouse and marching outside all day is the first one in about 3 weeks that it is below freezing in the area? Nevertheless, we braved the chilly wind anyway. We ate our fill of porridge and bread with various vegan spread for breakfast, brushed our teeth, used the facilities , and left so we could avoid the rush and any police that would come when everyone started to leave. We hopped on the bus and got to the meeting place for the demonstration at a quarter to ten. This first part of the demonstration was called The Flood because we were going to flood the streets in protest. So accordingly everyone was wearing blue ponchos. After standing in the crowd for about 30 minutes, listening to speakers talk about what we are fighting for, and practicing our chants we got the signal to begin. We started walking chanting, "What do we want?" "Climate Justice!" "When do we want it?" "Now!' This first part of the march was from the central station to Parliament Square. Along the way I saw: a bunch of people dressed as polar bears, a man in a UFO suit offering tickets off the planet for 100 million dollars, a man in an inflatable raft being pushed along by the sea of people in blue, an inflated globe being rolled over our heads, and my personal favorite, two people, supposed to be police looking for climate refugees, in a "boat" following two other people in a "boat" supposed to be the refugees, all the while shouting "Please show us your passports! If you do not have a visa you must leave this country, even if yours doesn't exist!" I even got to help hold up a Swedish anti-nuclear power sign. I am just like my mother!! Being in the crowd, I didn't feel like I was one person, I felt like we were all one entity moving and breathing in unison. One life force. After what felt like 10 minutes, which was at least 40, we arrived at Parliament Square. There we were provided with signs saying different things like: "There is no Planet B!" and "Nature doesn't compromise!" This was the hardest part of the day. After this big exciting march, we had to wait for about 3 hours in the cold, windy square, amidst a crowd of people until the final march to Bella Center started. There were people all around handing out Socialist newspapers, Communist pamphlets, Vegan recipes, and such. There was music and speeches, but that time waiting felt like forever. I was freezing, my legs were tired, I was hungry, but I just held in knowing the time would come when we would march again. And sure enough it did! I am not going to try and describe this part because I was so awed and amazed I couldn't tell you much. I was marching between the Socialist, Anarchists, and Environmentalists. It felt really strangely satisfying to be marching with Socialists and not feel like they are too extreme and crazy. (because thats the feeling I get in the US) We were chanting and singing and marching forever it seemed. It was 8 km and it took us about 3 to 4 hours to get there. It was pitch dark 2 hours in, but that didn't matter. The whole time my legs kept telling me to stop, but my brain pushed me through. Then eventually my brain told me to stop as well, but luckily my heart pushed on. When we got to Bella Center, everyone got quiet and marched with a light of some kind to prove that we were peaceful and calm. But after a while the area broke out in music and dancing, and laughter filled the air. We left by 6:30, the metro was so full there was barely standing room, and on more than one occasion the doors wouldn't close. Then we jumped on a bus to go get our stuff from where we slept. Got some free soup, and hitched a ride with some Germans to the train station. After hours upon hours of marching, the longest part of my day came waiting for trains and busses, just thinking about sleeping in a warm bed. I finally got home at around 2 AM and passed out.
I realize this isn't the best writing, and I am sure there are grammar mistakes, and run on sentences, and another myriad of errors that would make Ms. Rose blush, but this is all my mind can produce as of now. Maybe I am still in shock! But school is coming to a close this week, so I have to start packing up and cleaning. I just wanted to give you all a general idea of what I did.
I came away feeling accomplished and empowered, like the future is not as bleak as I imagined. However, the one thing I cant get out of my mind is: considering this was a climate demonstration, how many liters of oil were used to make the plastic ponchos we were wearing? And how many of them got thrown away? How much carbon was produced by the cars, trains, busses, planes we used to get here? And where did they get all the wood to make the signs?
I guess at some degree you must be your own enemy to create new allies.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Trip up North Part 1 of ?? (at least 2)
11/10
First day of travel, and what a day it was. It began on a low note for it was the last time I would see my parents for a while, but my reluctance to see them go was short lived. I was about to embark on a trip to the frozen northern reaches of the globe. The train was uncomfortable, not only for the fact that it would last 23 hours, but that I was stuck inside while my mind was whirring thinking about what awaited me outside.
Tomelilla-> Malmö-> Stockholm-> Luleå
12/10
They day began on a train rolling through a wonderland blanketed with snow and dotted with small cozy cottages and copses of trees. Stepping of a train after 23 hours would be wonderful no matter what, but stepping off onto a platform glistening with snow and the fresh air nipping at my face was pure bliss. My heavy backpack was weightless, the cramps in my legs were non existent, the rumble in my stomach subsided. It was just me and my environment as one. I have always loved the cold, for reasons unknown to me. Perhaps because of the sweltering L.A summers I knew as a child or the chilly Nordic blood running through my veins. Maybe it’s something else entirely, but all I know is I feel at home in the cold. I didn’t realize how cold it was until I couldn’t feel my face anymore. It felt as if sometime during my fifteen-foot walk I was jumped by a dentist who injected my entire face with Novocain. Nature was just trying to prove to me -9ºC is cold, whether you like it or not. We waited at the train station in Luleå for a few hours while two of my friends, Elin and Matilda, went to get the mini-busses and pick up our illustrious teacher from the airport. As they left, two things struck me. 1, it is really weird to think that in a class of 14 students, ages 18 to 24, less then half have drivers licenses, and of those 6, two are Americans without the faculties to drive a manual, and one has only driven a car about 3 times, let alone a bus. In my mind you need to have a car to get around and if you have to you can take public transportation, while here it is the complete opposite. All I have to say is: Sweden where have you been all my life? 2, how unfair it is we had to take a train for a day while our teacher gets to fly for about 2 hours, and get picked up at the airport by his own personal chauffeurs. I do suppose however that he did put the whole trip together, so I guess he can get a break. It is amazing how long two hours can feel like when you are waiting for something. Like the old adage says, a watched pot never boils, but my rebuttal to that statement is that not only is watching water boil immensely more exciting then just waiting but how can you prove that it will boil if I don’t watch? To pass the time I did what I normally do when I have a few hours in an afternoon to kill, finish half of a book like War and Peace. That Tolstoy sure knows how to write, though I do admit a story where half of the male characters share the same first name can get a bit touch and go. I also booked my train ticket down to Stockholm where I would spend some time and visit with my Aunt Susse for my fall break. After a while, the air in the little waiting room seemed stifling and all the seats seemed to be made with odd angles such that it was impossible to sit comfortably anywhere, so I took my leave and went for a jaunt around town. With every step through the crunching snow and ice, I took a deep breath and let the refreshing chill of the brisk air calm my mind and alleviate all my aches and pains. By the time I was back from stretching my legs our mini-busses had arrived. In a flurry of movement, backpacks and suitcases were thrown in the back and bodies were squeezed into their seats. When everything was packed and we were all piled in we were off. The rumbles of the engines were the sounds indicating our trip had begun. We had a couple of hours to drive ahead of us before we reached Övertorneå’s Folkhögskola, so we stopped at a gas station to fill our stores for the ride. The first thing that caught my eye when I entered was a stack of tins of gingerbread cookies. I don’t know if it was the winter weather that infused those cookies with some special quality, but they just seemed so much more appetizing then anything else in the store. What I didn’t expect were all the strange looks I got from my classmates. I heard from at least five different people that they never saw anyone eat gingerbread before December. Now, I knew Swedish culture is known for conforming to societal laws, but I never knew it went as far as laws regarding baked goods. I’m not sure if the weather actually made them taste better, but I ended up eating almost the whole tin within a two-hour drive. The drive itself is a bit of a blur, as I was fluttering in and out of sleep the whole time. As I woke up over and over again I remained in that limbo world between sleep and awake where reality blends with dream. The frozen landscape took on a magical quality, I was like Alice in Wonderland where normalcy is unobtainable and everything is tweaked, but in a strange way everything is just as it should be. We were driving through fresh snow and day old ice, alongside rivers and lakes surrounded by forest. Every once in a while you would see a little cabin nestled in among the trees, powdered in snow with smoke billowing out the chimney. How great would it be to live in the woods, off the beaten track, in a little house where you grow your own food and animals, living off the grid. I could see myself doing that sometime in my life. As my mind wandered into the future of my life, we came upon our destination. Övertorneå is a small little town situated along the banks of a river on which the other bank is Finland. We drove the busses down a little hill into the parking lot of the Övertorneå Folkhögskola, our home for the next week. We got out of the cars and gingerly walked over the icy ground and through the biting cold to where we had a nice hot meal waiting for us. Now, before I get ahead of myself let me remind you that my meals that day consisted of: a hard-boiled egg, a cheese sandwich, and three-quarters of a tin of gingerbread. So to me anything was edible. And it's a good thing I was that hungry to because otherwise I wouldn't have been able to get through dinner. We walked into the central building and were greeted by the schools director, a big, stout, Tornedaler (Swedish-Finn) who met us with open arms and the gift of gab. After sitting down and listening to the man talk for about ten minutes I was a bit at a loss. You see, this man not only spoke Swedish with a thick Finnish accent, but he was one of those people who is always sarcastic, so much so you cant believe what they tell you because truth and sarcasm become one tangled mess of what they think is the funniest god damn thing ever. By the end of his spiel we were convinced only women were allowed to wear hats, no clothing was allowed in the sauna, there was no smoking allowed and that there was nowhere at school or in town for us to stay, so we would have to sleep on the gym floor. After a few big laughs on his part, we were introduced to our dinner, Palt. Essentially a ball of potato flour, salt, butter, baking powder, with a tiny ball of chopped up bacon in the center, that is boiled in water for several hours until it all solidifies into a solid, spongy, gluey glop. These are put on a plate and served with a mound of butter and lingonberry jam. Now I have always held the idea that one must try everything once, and then once again just to make sure, but in this case my rule is void, once is plenty. After a filling meal of three hockey pucks filled with meat, we went to move into the different apartments we would be staying in. Herein lies the biggest controversy of the trip. We were supplied with two guest apartments, with room for five in each, and then director's suite, which was for Mats and 4 others. Now it should seem easy enough for a group of 14 adults to decide who stays with whom and so on. The initial divide was eight in one room: Matilda, Molly S, Molly F, Linda, Amanda CP, Amanda L, Elin, and Me, 6 in the other: Zac, Robin, Eric, Amanda B, Amanda F, and Madde, and Mats alone in the suite. Now considering that there were only five mattresses in each apartment this plan didn't really work out. So Elin, Linda, and I went over to Mats' suite where we were going to get some extra mattresses. However, when we got their we changed our mind and decided it would just be easier for us three to move to the suite, plus we thought it would be nice to share a room with people we hadn't spent a lot of time with. That should have solved the problem, but when Molly F, Amanda CP, and Amanda L came over to see where we were, they too decided that the suite was bigger and a nicer place to stay. So now we had 7 people, including Mats, in one apartment, 2 in another, and 6 in the last one. Our plan to thin out numbers ended up just shifting to a new place. This then left Matilda and Molly S alone in their own apartment, giving them the idea that no one wanted to stay with them, bad move I must say. After we were all settled in our new suite, Elin, Linda and I decided to go shopping for our food for the week. The school was providing us breakfast and fika, or coffee-time, but we still needed to buy lunch and dinner. So we, along with most others, headed down to COOP to stock up. After we had paid we realized we bought so much food it would be impossible to eat it all in a week and we started to get the feeling we actually would have saved money if we ate out, but after some calculations we realized we were only paying about half of what we would if ate out every night. As we were walking back to the school we had our first ice related casualty, Linda stepped on some ice and literally went flying through the air landing right on her wrist. Luckily, it wasn't serious and with some help of the Advil I always carry in my bag there wasn't much swelling or pain. We got back to our flat, put our food away, pulled out a few beers and sat down to my new favorite game: the Flag Spel. Essentially the game consists of cards with a nation's flag on one side, and on the other some helpful hints, a map and the capital city. The premise of the game is to try and get the country and capital of the other players cards and build up the biggest pile. Who knew an informational game could be so much fun? For example, did you know that the capital of Mongolia is Ulan Bator, because I did, but I'm not sure how! We played for a couple hours but finally had to stop when Mats joined in because he was a) too good, and b) he kept giving everybody hints so they would get it right. We understand that the teacher's job is to teach, but seriously sometimes some of us want to show everyone how smart we are!
13/10 PART 1
I woke up at a 6:45 to a rising sun, clear blue skies, and a frisk -10ºC. I had to wake up so early to beat the rush to the shower, because an apartment with 7 people, five of them girls, and only one bathroom is the definition of precious commodity. It was an epic campaign, equal to that of the Spartans at the battle of Thermopylae or the Charge of the Light Brigade, I had to brave a freezing room in only boxers and a towel, each step draining the fresh warmth of a nights sleep, and when I finally reached the door to the bathroom I found it occupied. Each minute I waited in that cold room felt like an eternity. I kept myself busy with the reminder that I would soon be under a shower running with hot steamy water. After about five minutes Linda was done, and I rushed into the bathroom before anyone else could. That was possibly the best shower I ever took, as the warm water cascaded over my body I was warmed to the soul and ready to face the day. My outfit for the day consisted of two pairs of socks, one wool and one cotton, 3 bottom layers, boxers, long underwear, and jeans, 3 top layers, a long sleeved shirt, fleece jacket, and big down jacket, topped of with wool gloves and a hat. Perhaps I over dressed a little since I was only walking about 50 feet to the house where we would be eating breakfast, but for a boy from L.A. I didn't know what to expect, and better safe than sorry. Breakfast consisted of some yoghurt and granola, a hard boiled egg sandwich (a Swedish sandwich that is, one piece of bread), another type of sandwich, and the pièce de résistance coffee, really good coffee. For some strange reason Swedes make really good coffee, and in a country where you can get really good coffee the best is up north. They boil the coffee with the water, so it's really, dark, rich, and creamily smooth. A great way to start a great day, well some parts were great others not so much. After my fill we headed into the main school building, and sat down in what I can only describe as a decommissioned science classroom, and awaited or guest teacher for the week. On one wall was an empty fumigation chamber, on another a shelf covered with assorted curios and scientific artifacts. Couldn't help but think, what the hell does this have to do with Finnish-Swedes and Kväner. I don't remember reading anything about them being famous chemists. All doubts of perhaps not learning what we were supposed to disappeared, as a stout man, with broad shoulders, walrus mustache and a face wrinkled by the winds that rode in through the fjords entered the room. Bengt Aili. This was him our portal to the world of the Kväner and Tornedal-Finsk. The first thing he did as he walked in the class, was give us an important Kväner/Sami/Torendaling city that we had to find on a map of Norbotten (Northern Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia.) After our blundering attempts at finding these seemingly random towns (like Kiruna and Murmansk, who the hell has heard of those...j/k) he proceeded to go around the class, ask our names, and repeat them in Meänkieli, the local language, and Finnish. Some examples Amanda-> Mandi, Linda-> Lindi, Max-> Maxi... and you can guess the rest. This ended up being a theme of our trip to Finland. After a few hours of lectures on Swedish and Finnish history, language, and geography(?) we had our first fika(Coffee). We were once again give the really good coffee, but this time we had something with it....Kaffe Ost (Coffee Cheese). What reaction do you get hearing about this for the first time? I imagine there are several ways: you think, cheese...milk...they are about the same, or never in a million years does that sound good, or I'll try that. I was the third...in the beginning. The cheese was the consistency of Havarti, soft and smooth, good melting cheese, and had, on its own, the flavor of fresh salty mozzarella. When I added it to the coffee I didn't really know what to expect. I was thinking it would melt and mix in with the liquid and cream it out. Turns out, it just sits at the bottom melting releasing salt and fat into the water. You dip to spoon to the bottom, grab some cheese, and eat it off your spoon, and it tastes like before. Then you drink the coffee, and it does NOT taste like before. It tastes like salty fatty cheesy coffee. Like a non-fat espresso and mozzarella pizza. Then you realize that the fat in the coffee sticks to your teeth, in fact it sticks to your whole mouth. So now you feel like you have been sucking on a pigs ass and haven't brushed your teeth in a week. Needless to say that didn't become the favorite part of my day. I'll just stick to black coffee. Then we met up again a headed to Finland.
TO BE CONTINUED>>>>>>>
First day of travel, and what a day it was. It began on a low note for it was the last time I would see my parents for a while, but my reluctance to see them go was short lived. I was about to embark on a trip to the frozen northern reaches of the globe. The train was uncomfortable, not only for the fact that it would last 23 hours, but that I was stuck inside while my mind was whirring thinking about what awaited me outside.
Tomelilla-> Malmö-> Stockholm-> Luleå
12/10
They day began on a train rolling through a wonderland blanketed with snow and dotted with small cozy cottages and copses of trees. Stepping of a train after 23 hours would be wonderful no matter what, but stepping off onto a platform glistening with snow and the fresh air nipping at my face was pure bliss. My heavy backpack was weightless, the cramps in my legs were non existent, the rumble in my stomach subsided. It was just me and my environment as one. I have always loved the cold, for reasons unknown to me. Perhaps because of the sweltering L.A summers I knew as a child or the chilly Nordic blood running through my veins. Maybe it’s something else entirely, but all I know is I feel at home in the cold. I didn’t realize how cold it was until I couldn’t feel my face anymore. It felt as if sometime during my fifteen-foot walk I was jumped by a dentist who injected my entire face with Novocain. Nature was just trying to prove to me -9ºC is cold, whether you like it or not. We waited at the train station in Luleå for a few hours while two of my friends, Elin and Matilda, went to get the mini-busses and pick up our illustrious teacher from the airport. As they left, two things struck me. 1, it is really weird to think that in a class of 14 students, ages 18 to 24, less then half have drivers licenses, and of those 6, two are Americans without the faculties to drive a manual, and one has only driven a car about 3 times, let alone a bus. In my mind you need to have a car to get around and if you have to you can take public transportation, while here it is the complete opposite. All I have to say is: Sweden where have you been all my life? 2, how unfair it is we had to take a train for a day while our teacher gets to fly for about 2 hours, and get picked up at the airport by his own personal chauffeurs. I do suppose however that he did put the whole trip together, so I guess he can get a break. It is amazing how long two hours can feel like when you are waiting for something. Like the old adage says, a watched pot never boils, but my rebuttal to that statement is that not only is watching water boil immensely more exciting then just waiting but how can you prove that it will boil if I don’t watch? To pass the time I did what I normally do when I have a few hours in an afternoon to kill, finish half of a book like War and Peace. That Tolstoy sure knows how to write, though I do admit a story where half of the male characters share the same first name can get a bit touch and go. I also booked my train ticket down to Stockholm where I would spend some time and visit with my Aunt Susse for my fall break. After a while, the air in the little waiting room seemed stifling and all the seats seemed to be made with odd angles such that it was impossible to sit comfortably anywhere, so I took my leave and went for a jaunt around town. With every step through the crunching snow and ice, I took a deep breath and let the refreshing chill of the brisk air calm my mind and alleviate all my aches and pains. By the time I was back from stretching my legs our mini-busses had arrived. In a flurry of movement, backpacks and suitcases were thrown in the back and bodies were squeezed into their seats. When everything was packed and we were all piled in we were off. The rumbles of the engines were the sounds indicating our trip had begun. We had a couple of hours to drive ahead of us before we reached Övertorneå’s Folkhögskola, so we stopped at a gas station to fill our stores for the ride. The first thing that caught my eye when I entered was a stack of tins of gingerbread cookies. I don’t know if it was the winter weather that infused those cookies with some special quality, but they just seemed so much more appetizing then anything else in the store. What I didn’t expect were all the strange looks I got from my classmates. I heard from at least five different people that they never saw anyone eat gingerbread before December. Now, I knew Swedish culture is known for conforming to societal laws, but I never knew it went as far as laws regarding baked goods. I’m not sure if the weather actually made them taste better, but I ended up eating almost the whole tin within a two-hour drive. The drive itself is a bit of a blur, as I was fluttering in and out of sleep the whole time. As I woke up over and over again I remained in that limbo world between sleep and awake where reality blends with dream. The frozen landscape took on a magical quality, I was like Alice in Wonderland where normalcy is unobtainable and everything is tweaked, but in a strange way everything is just as it should be. We were driving through fresh snow and day old ice, alongside rivers and lakes surrounded by forest. Every once in a while you would see a little cabin nestled in among the trees, powdered in snow with smoke billowing out the chimney. How great would it be to live in the woods, off the beaten track, in a little house where you grow your own food and animals, living off the grid. I could see myself doing that sometime in my life. As my mind wandered into the future of my life, we came upon our destination. Övertorneå is a small little town situated along the banks of a river on which the other bank is Finland. We drove the busses down a little hill into the parking lot of the Övertorneå Folkhögskola, our home for the next week. We got out of the cars and gingerly walked over the icy ground and through the biting cold to where we had a nice hot meal waiting for us. Now, before I get ahead of myself let me remind you that my meals that day consisted of: a hard-boiled egg, a cheese sandwich, and three-quarters of a tin of gingerbread. So to me anything was edible. And it's a good thing I was that hungry to because otherwise I wouldn't have been able to get through dinner. We walked into the central building and were greeted by the schools director, a big, stout, Tornedaler (Swedish-Finn) who met us with open arms and the gift of gab. After sitting down and listening to the man talk for about ten minutes I was a bit at a loss. You see, this man not only spoke Swedish with a thick Finnish accent, but he was one of those people who is always sarcastic, so much so you cant believe what they tell you because truth and sarcasm become one tangled mess of what they think is the funniest god damn thing ever. By the end of his spiel we were convinced only women were allowed to wear hats, no clothing was allowed in the sauna, there was no smoking allowed and that there was nowhere at school or in town for us to stay, so we would have to sleep on the gym floor. After a few big laughs on his part, we were introduced to our dinner, Palt. Essentially a ball of potato flour, salt, butter, baking powder, with a tiny ball of chopped up bacon in the center, that is boiled in water for several hours until it all solidifies into a solid, spongy, gluey glop. These are put on a plate and served with a mound of butter and lingonberry jam. Now I have always held the idea that one must try everything once, and then once again just to make sure, but in this case my rule is void, once is plenty. After a filling meal of three hockey pucks filled with meat, we went to move into the different apartments we would be staying in. Herein lies the biggest controversy of the trip. We were supplied with two guest apartments, with room for five in each, and then director's suite, which was for Mats and 4 others. Now it should seem easy enough for a group of 14 adults to decide who stays with whom and so on. The initial divide was eight in one room: Matilda, Molly S, Molly F, Linda, Amanda CP, Amanda L, Elin, and Me, 6 in the other: Zac, Robin, Eric, Amanda B, Amanda F, and Madde, and Mats alone in the suite. Now considering that there were only five mattresses in each apartment this plan didn't really work out. So Elin, Linda, and I went over to Mats' suite where we were going to get some extra mattresses. However, when we got their we changed our mind and decided it would just be easier for us three to move to the suite, plus we thought it would be nice to share a room with people we hadn't spent a lot of time with. That should have solved the problem, but when Molly F, Amanda CP, and Amanda L came over to see where we were, they too decided that the suite was bigger and a nicer place to stay. So now we had 7 people, including Mats, in one apartment, 2 in another, and 6 in the last one. Our plan to thin out numbers ended up just shifting to a new place. This then left Matilda and Molly S alone in their own apartment, giving them the idea that no one wanted to stay with them, bad move I must say. After we were all settled in our new suite, Elin, Linda and I decided to go shopping for our food for the week. The school was providing us breakfast and fika, or coffee-time, but we still needed to buy lunch and dinner. So we, along with most others, headed down to COOP to stock up. After we had paid we realized we bought so much food it would be impossible to eat it all in a week and we started to get the feeling we actually would have saved money if we ate out, but after some calculations we realized we were only paying about half of what we would if ate out every night. As we were walking back to the school we had our first ice related casualty, Linda stepped on some ice and literally went flying through the air landing right on her wrist. Luckily, it wasn't serious and with some help of the Advil I always carry in my bag there wasn't much swelling or pain. We got back to our flat, put our food away, pulled out a few beers and sat down to my new favorite game: the Flag Spel. Essentially the game consists of cards with a nation's flag on one side, and on the other some helpful hints, a map and the capital city. The premise of the game is to try and get the country and capital of the other players cards and build up the biggest pile. Who knew an informational game could be so much fun? For example, did you know that the capital of Mongolia is Ulan Bator, because I did, but I'm not sure how! We played for a couple hours but finally had to stop when Mats joined in because he was a) too good, and b) he kept giving everybody hints so they would get it right. We understand that the teacher's job is to teach, but seriously sometimes some of us want to show everyone how smart we are!
13/10 PART 1
I woke up at a 6:45 to a rising sun, clear blue skies, and a frisk -10ºC. I had to wake up so early to beat the rush to the shower, because an apartment with 7 people, five of them girls, and only one bathroom is the definition of precious commodity. It was an epic campaign, equal to that of the Spartans at the battle of Thermopylae or the Charge of the Light Brigade, I had to brave a freezing room in only boxers and a towel, each step draining the fresh warmth of a nights sleep, and when I finally reached the door to the bathroom I found it occupied. Each minute I waited in that cold room felt like an eternity. I kept myself busy with the reminder that I would soon be under a shower running with hot steamy water. After about five minutes Linda was done, and I rushed into the bathroom before anyone else could. That was possibly the best shower I ever took, as the warm water cascaded over my body I was warmed to the soul and ready to face the day. My outfit for the day consisted of two pairs of socks, one wool and one cotton, 3 bottom layers, boxers, long underwear, and jeans, 3 top layers, a long sleeved shirt, fleece jacket, and big down jacket, topped of with wool gloves and a hat. Perhaps I over dressed a little since I was only walking about 50 feet to the house where we would be eating breakfast, but for a boy from L.A. I didn't know what to expect, and better safe than sorry. Breakfast consisted of some yoghurt and granola, a hard boiled egg sandwich (a Swedish sandwich that is, one piece of bread), another type of sandwich, and the pièce de résistance coffee, really good coffee. For some strange reason Swedes make really good coffee, and in a country where you can get really good coffee the best is up north. They boil the coffee with the water, so it's really, dark, rich, and creamily smooth. A great way to start a great day, well some parts were great others not so much. After my fill we headed into the main school building, and sat down in what I can only describe as a decommissioned science classroom, and awaited or guest teacher for the week. On one wall was an empty fumigation chamber, on another a shelf covered with assorted curios and scientific artifacts. Couldn't help but think, what the hell does this have to do with Finnish-Swedes and Kväner. I don't remember reading anything about them being famous chemists. All doubts of perhaps not learning what we were supposed to disappeared, as a stout man, with broad shoulders, walrus mustache and a face wrinkled by the winds that rode in through the fjords entered the room. Bengt Aili. This was him our portal to the world of the Kväner and Tornedal-Finsk. The first thing he did as he walked in the class, was give us an important Kväner/Sami/Torendaling city that we had to find on a map of Norbotten (Northern Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia.) After our blundering attempts at finding these seemingly random towns (like Kiruna and Murmansk, who the hell has heard of those...j/k) he proceeded to go around the class, ask our names, and repeat them in Meänkieli, the local language, and Finnish. Some examples Amanda-> Mandi, Linda-> Lindi, Max-> Maxi... and you can guess the rest. This ended up being a theme of our trip to Finland. After a few hours of lectures on Swedish and Finnish history, language, and geography(?) we had our first fika(Coffee). We were once again give the really good coffee, but this time we had something with it....Kaffe Ost (Coffee Cheese). What reaction do you get hearing about this for the first time? I imagine there are several ways: you think, cheese...milk...they are about the same, or never in a million years does that sound good, or I'll try that. I was the third...in the beginning. The cheese was the consistency of Havarti, soft and smooth, good melting cheese, and had, on its own, the flavor of fresh salty mozzarella. When I added it to the coffee I didn't really know what to expect. I was thinking it would melt and mix in with the liquid and cream it out. Turns out, it just sits at the bottom melting releasing salt and fat into the water. You dip to spoon to the bottom, grab some cheese, and eat it off your spoon, and it tastes like before. Then you drink the coffee, and it does NOT taste like before. It tastes like salty fatty cheesy coffee. Like a non-fat espresso and mozzarella pizza. Then you realize that the fat in the coffee sticks to your teeth, in fact it sticks to your whole mouth. So now you feel like you have been sucking on a pigs ass and haven't brushed your teeth in a week. Needless to say that didn't become the favorite part of my day. I'll just stick to black coffee. Then we met up again a headed to Finland.
TO BE CONTINUED>>>>>>>
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Time for an update
I realized that it has been awhile since my last post. So, 5 days after realizing that, here I go. Things here in Sweden are starting to go from dark to darker. I do mean that in the most literal sense. Sun starts to rise at 7:30 and set at 3:30, short days and long nights. Even the days are dark. Last week we had a "jättestorm", could be translated as a "very storm." But none the less a big storm. Steady winds of 20 m/s (45 mph!) and gusts of god knows what. The next morning there were reports of missing roofs, rouge gasoline tanks, and uprooted trees all through Skåne. My personal experience consisted of sitting in my room listening to rain hit the windows, not in the relaxing and soothing way, but in the oh my god my windows are gonna break and my room is gonna flood way. I also had to deal with the hissing sound of wind coming in through the cracks in the window seams and my little wall heater trying to keep itself alive. But none the less I survived. Also, the week before that I took part of a traditional Skånska celebration: Mårtins fest. This celebration includes the eating of roast goose and.... blood soup (svartsoppa.) Now, I have never eaten blood before and I had heard horror stories, so I didn't know what to expect. However, this story does not end with projectile vomiting or stomach ailments. It wasn't so bad! I'm not saying I am going to search for it and try to eat it, but if it comes down my road, hopefully not very often, I wouldn't abandon the idea of eating it again. It is made with goose blood and a variety of dried fruits. So, unsurprisingly, it tastes like bloody fruit. Well not bloody, not the irony kind at least, more like really strong liver or organ meat. The smell.... gingerbread cookies. So that was an experience. But one of my rules is to try everything once, and a second time if you didn't like it. I am also working on planning my trip to Borneo a little bit more, but its slow going and not much to talk about as of yet, but as soon as I make any major decision I will post them.
P.S.- I promised to write about my trip up North (journal style, like my Europe trip0. I am still working on it, but I think I will post the first few days I have done to try and stimulate myself to write more.
P.S.- I promised to write about my trip up North (journal style, like my Europe trip0. I am still working on it, but I think I will post the first few days I have done to try and stimulate myself to write more.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
I read the news today, oh boy
Everyday before I go to bed I have a plan in my mind about what the next day will be like. My Romanticized idea is that I will wake up (and not put my alarm on snooze), do yoga , take a shower, eat breakfast, and ,with the time I have to spare after all the daily morning routines, write. I now question my abilities to stick with something and follow through. My mornings have instead turned to a non structured lump of sleep addicted and hibernative tendencies. Some days I don't follow through for a reason: a headache, a bad nights sleep, wanting to continue a good dream I was having (which is a skill I am lucky to have, because as I have heard being able to control the playback of your dream like a DVD is a rare skill), but most of the time I just want to sleep. Perhaps this is just a solidification of my being an animal, just like every other creature, and adapting to this new winter environment, yes either that or I'm just a lazy human.
But I guess for all my persona issues with myself I have been getting some things done. I finally decided on where I will be going for my 5 to 7 week field study.... wait for it....wait for it....BORNEO. Yes, the land of orangutans, fruit that smells like feet and tastes to match. An island divided in 3 by Indonesia, Malaysia, and Brunei. I am also working on putting up an account of my travels up north, and little by little it is getting there. Of course every time I sit down at the computer to write, I get distracted and instead waste my time on useless Internet frivolities.
But, it looks like I have some time now to write, because class doesn't start till 1 o'clock. I'm gonna try and actually write a decent portion.
But I guess for all my persona issues with myself I have been getting some things done. I finally decided on where I will be going for my 5 to 7 week field study.... wait for it....wait for it....BORNEO. Yes, the land of orangutans, fruit that smells like feet and tastes to match. An island divided in 3 by Indonesia, Malaysia, and Brunei. I am also working on putting up an account of my travels up north, and little by little it is getting there. Of course every time I sit down at the computer to write, I get distracted and instead waste my time on useless Internet frivolities.
But, it looks like I have some time now to write, because class doesn't start till 1 o'clock. I'm gonna try and actually write a decent portion.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
It's been a long time comin'
Well, I haven't posted in a while so I thought I should. Two weeks ago, I came back from my first school trip, up to northern Sweden and Finland. While I was there I kept a little log of what I did and my experiences, but I didn't actually write it out. I am now working on getting my thoughts together in a coheiseve manner so I can post them and you can be enlightened by my experiences. ;)
The weather here is starting to turn and it is clearly going to be winter soon. Almost all the leaves are gone, leaving the environment looking like a skeleton of its former self. Gone to are the beautiful sunrises and sunsets, with their many colors, that made the day seem endless. Now the sun rises at around 7, but it isnt light outside till 8:30, and it goes back down again by 5. Yesterday I had me first southern Swedish snow since I have been here, that is if you can even call it snow. It is more like water with sharp pieces of ice that act like buckshot.
Who knows how this weather will affect me. Will I be depressed? Will I feel tired and sick? I guess we will have to wait and find out. But as of now I am apreciating the beauty of the new season and relishing in the fresh air and cool breezes it provides. Plus, I wont even be here for half the winter, I will be in L.A. and Hawaii.
I will try to put up my travel blog A.S.A.P, and I will upload my pictures tonight. (the pictures I ahve are only from the first half of the trip, but I will try and get friends pics as well)
Best of love, my thoughts are always with my friends and family
The weather here is starting to turn and it is clearly going to be winter soon. Almost all the leaves are gone, leaving the environment looking like a skeleton of its former self. Gone to are the beautiful sunrises and sunsets, with their many colors, that made the day seem endless. Now the sun rises at around 7, but it isnt light outside till 8:30, and it goes back down again by 5. Yesterday I had me first southern Swedish snow since I have been here, that is if you can even call it snow. It is more like water with sharp pieces of ice that act like buckshot.
Who knows how this weather will affect me. Will I be depressed? Will I feel tired and sick? I guess we will have to wait and find out. But as of now I am apreciating the beauty of the new season and relishing in the fresh air and cool breezes it provides. Plus, I wont even be here for half the winter, I will be in L.A. and Hawaii.
I will try to put up my travel blog A.S.A.P, and I will upload my pictures tonight. (the pictures I ahve are only from the first half of the trip, but I will try and get friends pics as well)
Best of love, my thoughts are always with my friends and family
Friday, October 9, 2009
The time has come
I'm sitting in my room right now laying out everything I need to pack up. Pack up? Why? This weekend I embark on my class' first field trip. I literally mean field, we are going out into the real world. We are heading up to the Frozen Tundra of Northern Sweden. We will be spending 10 days studying the Sami people, you know, the ones with the reindeer. We will also go into Finland for a few days, you know, the place where all they do is drink vodka. I getting ready to spend at least 23 hours on a train so..... that will be fun. They just got their first snow so its gonna be cold. I'll keep a journal while I'm gone, and take lots of pictures for you to see.
Hope I don't run into any bears, or wolves, or get frostbite.
We will see
Hope I don't run into any bears, or wolves, or get frostbite.
We will see
Thursday, October 1, 2009
What if our planet was visited long after we were gone?
In the first age, we created fire. We were transcended from the monotonous life of simple creatures to those who dared to think they had control over their environment.
This fire gave us time to think. We were able to question our world and surroundings, and we created gods. We carved their visages out of rock and bone, stone and wood; wood still existed then. We molded them from flaming metals and delicate clay. We built them houses of worship, temples to their greatness; all decorated with the most exotic goods. And this gave us comfort.
There were gods of many kinds. Men, women, young, old, mortal and not. Some were vengeful and harsh, drinking our blood and stealing our women, but in return we were given kind weather, good harvest, fertility, love, and access to their bounty. With their ever-watchful eyes our skies were darkened by flocks of birds, our seas brimmed with hoards of fish, and the land shook with millions of thundering hooves.
Our gods were adorned with crowns on their heads, or wings on their backs, the heads of animals, and the all Seeing Eye. We called them the One; we called them the Infinite and the Everlasting. We were not alone, we were not orphans.
In the second age, we created money. The money was made of precious stone and shining metals. One side was decorated with a severed head, that of a king or ruler, or some other important figure. The other was adorned with something comforting: a majestic bird, a fierce fur-bearing animal, or even a fish.
Our gods had died, and this was the only thing that reminded us of them, that reminded us of all that they had put forth for us. And as they died so to did their great works.
This money was small enough to hold, and everyone held some with him everyday. They held it as close to their body as possible, as if it had comforting warmth. This money could not be eaten or burned, it could not be worn or drank; but through some unknown magic it could be turned into these things. It could turn into what ever you desired.
This money was mystifying, and we thought we understood its power. With enough of it, it was rumored; you could fly up into the heavens and become a god yourself.
In the third age, money became our god. It was omnipotent, invincible, and uncontrollable. It began to talk and weave stories; it began to establish its own world.
Towers of glass and metal were erected in its name. It created great feasts, and horrible famines, songs of joy and pain. It created greed for some, and hunger for others. These were its two faces now, no longer a comfort, but a pain.
It started to eat things in order to feed its ever-growing hunger. It ate ancient forests and wetlands, croplands and fields, and the lives of children. It ate vast armies, great ships and magnificent cities. No one could stop it. Everything in its path was either absorbed or destroyed. To have it was a sign of grace. To have it was a necessity.
In the fourth age, we made deserts. These deserts took over the land, replacing the god’s work with ours. We had many types of deserts, but with one thing in common: they were dead zones where nothing could grow.
Some were made of concrete, some from poisons that we dumped, some of baked and dying earth. These deserts were created from our ever-increasing desire for money and from our gut wrenching despair from lacking it.
War, plague, famine and death, the four horsemen of the apocalypse visited us. Our apocalypse. Money’s apocalypse. None of these things stopped our zealous creation of desert.
Finally, all our wells were poisoned, all our rivers were dried up or filled with trash, all our oceans were devoid of life; there was no where clean left to grow food.
Some of our wise men and scientists turned to the deserts, as if they had answers. A stone in the sand in the setting sun could be very beautiful, they said. Deserts were tidy, because there were no weeds in them, nothing that crawled. Stay in the desert long enough, and you could apprehend the absolute. The number zero was holy.
You who have come here from some distant world, to this dried up riverbed and this pile of rubble, and to this capsule of copper, in which on the last day of all our recorded days we placed our final words:
Pray for us, who once thought we could fly with the gods. For mortals are never meant to get that close to heaven, and will just fall back to earth like the poor boy Icarus and his golden wings.
This fire gave us time to think. We were able to question our world and surroundings, and we created gods. We carved their visages out of rock and bone, stone and wood; wood still existed then. We molded them from flaming metals and delicate clay. We built them houses of worship, temples to their greatness; all decorated with the most exotic goods. And this gave us comfort.
There were gods of many kinds. Men, women, young, old, mortal and not. Some were vengeful and harsh, drinking our blood and stealing our women, but in return we were given kind weather, good harvest, fertility, love, and access to their bounty. With their ever-watchful eyes our skies were darkened by flocks of birds, our seas brimmed with hoards of fish, and the land shook with millions of thundering hooves.
Our gods were adorned with crowns on their heads, or wings on their backs, the heads of animals, and the all Seeing Eye. We called them the One; we called them the Infinite and the Everlasting. We were not alone, we were not orphans.
In the second age, we created money. The money was made of precious stone and shining metals. One side was decorated with a severed head, that of a king or ruler, or some other important figure. The other was adorned with something comforting: a majestic bird, a fierce fur-bearing animal, or even a fish.
Our gods had died, and this was the only thing that reminded us of them, that reminded us of all that they had put forth for us. And as they died so to did their great works.
This money was small enough to hold, and everyone held some with him everyday. They held it as close to their body as possible, as if it had comforting warmth. This money could not be eaten or burned, it could not be worn or drank; but through some unknown magic it could be turned into these things. It could turn into what ever you desired.
This money was mystifying, and we thought we understood its power. With enough of it, it was rumored; you could fly up into the heavens and become a god yourself.
In the third age, money became our god. It was omnipotent, invincible, and uncontrollable. It began to talk and weave stories; it began to establish its own world.
Towers of glass and metal were erected in its name. It created great feasts, and horrible famines, songs of joy and pain. It created greed for some, and hunger for others. These were its two faces now, no longer a comfort, but a pain.
It started to eat things in order to feed its ever-growing hunger. It ate ancient forests and wetlands, croplands and fields, and the lives of children. It ate vast armies, great ships and magnificent cities. No one could stop it. Everything in its path was either absorbed or destroyed. To have it was a sign of grace. To have it was a necessity.
In the fourth age, we made deserts. These deserts took over the land, replacing the god’s work with ours. We had many types of deserts, but with one thing in common: they were dead zones where nothing could grow.
Some were made of concrete, some from poisons that we dumped, some of baked and dying earth. These deserts were created from our ever-increasing desire for money and from our gut wrenching despair from lacking it.
War, plague, famine and death, the four horsemen of the apocalypse visited us. Our apocalypse. Money’s apocalypse. None of these things stopped our zealous creation of desert.
Finally, all our wells were poisoned, all our rivers were dried up or filled with trash, all our oceans were devoid of life; there was no where clean left to grow food.
Some of our wise men and scientists turned to the deserts, as if they had answers. A stone in the sand in the setting sun could be very beautiful, they said. Deserts were tidy, because there were no weeds in them, nothing that crawled. Stay in the desert long enough, and you could apprehend the absolute. The number zero was holy.
You who have come here from some distant world, to this dried up riverbed and this pile of rubble, and to this capsule of copper, in which on the last day of all our recorded days we placed our final words:
Pray for us, who once thought we could fly with the gods. For mortals are never meant to get that close to heaven, and will just fall back to earth like the poor boy Icarus and his golden wings.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
And so it goes
The high holy days were here and now they are gone. Being with my family and going to temple during this time of the year was a given. But this year I seemed to miss it completely. Not only did i not go to temple, I didnt celebrate in any way. Me not celebrating a holiday that I always look forward to is more of a shock to me than being away from my family. I really didn't expect to be affected this much by not going. It just seems to be another thing that has passed me by in my month here. The days go by so fast I can hardly keep up. It feels like I was just with my grandparents laughing and talking, but that was already 3 days ago. I'm not sure thats such a bad thing though, I mean if its moving fast it means you are having a good time...right?
Monday, September 21, 2009
1 month in
I can believe it has already been a month. In some ways I feel like I have only been here for a short time, and in other ways I feel like it has already been half a year. From what I can gauge so far I am going to love it here. I love Sweden and it just feels so normal and right. When I am surrounded by the culture and language I feel like I am filling up a part of me that was never really full before. Its like I am connecting to another part of myself. The only thing that is really bothering me is the lack of things to do here. Tomelilla is a tiny little town with nothing to do, and though some larger cities are within 30 mins to an 1 hr by train its not really feasable to go out during the week. I suppose as time goes by I will figure something out.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Language
To sit here and listen is like watching a t.v. where the sound is fluttering in and out like a bug stuck indoors.
You follow the story, but you miss the details that make it meaningful.
Is it my circuitry that is wrong, or must I just be patient and wait for the signal to steady.
Life without speech, or at least meaningful conversation, wouldn't be a life at all.
To sit and listen is not what I do well.
Am i just fooling myself into believing I'm not good enough, perhaps I must wipe the dust off my mental Rosetta Stone and let the translation begin.
It has to be in there somewhere.
I just need to excavate and restore it.
My mind and my possibilities are like an ancient civilization waiting to be discovered and restored.
You follow the story, but you miss the details that make it meaningful.
Is it my circuitry that is wrong, or must I just be patient and wait for the signal to steady.
Life without speech, or at least meaningful conversation, wouldn't be a life at all.
To sit and listen is not what I do well.
Am i just fooling myself into believing I'm not good enough, perhaps I must wipe the dust off my mental Rosetta Stone and let the translation begin.
It has to be in there somewhere.
I just need to excavate and restore it.
My mind and my possibilities are like an ancient civilization waiting to be discovered and restored.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Am I Proud?
I am proud to be an American, but I am disappointed as well.
I am proud of the fact that you can go to a good school, but not that you have to be rich to do it.
I am proud that we gave rights and laws to protect us, but not that big companies can pretend they don't exist, and get away with it.
I am proud of our scientific leaps, but not of how we use and abuse them.
I am proud of the American dream, but not that money can buy you one.
I am proud of our ability to excel, but not that we would kill 1000's to save a buck.
It is in these greedy companies and crony favoritists that I lose my faith and pride.
How can we preach and condem others, while underneath our glorious facade lays deciet, fraud and corruption.
We say Americans are hard workers and its true, but its all about money, taking advantage of people, and finding a quick fix.
We have lost the American spirit of working for what you have, and gained the idea that if I can make more money and do less work I am working hard for what i get.
Goodbye to the Joads, and hello to American Family Inc.
Its Monsanto's world now.
I am proud of the fact that you can go to a good school, but not that you have to be rich to do it.
I am proud that we gave rights and laws to protect us, but not that big companies can pretend they don't exist, and get away with it.
I am proud of our scientific leaps, but not of how we use and abuse them.
I am proud of the American dream, but not that money can buy you one.
I am proud of our ability to excel, but not that we would kill 1000's to save a buck.
It is in these greedy companies and crony favoritists that I lose my faith and pride.
How can we preach and condem others, while underneath our glorious facade lays deciet, fraud and corruption.
We say Americans are hard workers and its true, but its all about money, taking advantage of people, and finding a quick fix.
We have lost the American spirit of working for what you have, and gained the idea that if I can make more money and do less work I am working hard for what i get.
Goodbye to the Joads, and hello to American Family Inc.
Its Monsanto's world now.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
8/27 and 8/29
8/27/09
WE HAVE LIFT OFF! We just took part in our program’s first official trip. We weren’t in some far away land surrounded by jungle, or dangerous animals, or an unstudied group of people, but on a trip through the forests of Sweden. This was a treat for me, for even though I have seen most of the south of Sweden; I never really went exploring or camping. Something that gives one a completely different feel for the area. The entire international program went on this 2-day excursion. The prospect was met with varied moans, complaints, and from some squeals of excitement, myself included. The proposed plan was a 7 or 8-kilometer hike to our overnight, and then the next day a 14 or 15 kilometer hike to the ocean. In real Swedish fashion, the only thing people were chatting about now was whether or not the sun would be out and we could lie on the beach. As soon as the sun is out Swedes flock to the beach like something else flocking to somewhere else.
8/29/09
I don know what to write, what to write, something. I need to write something. What use is a blog if you don’t write anything? Anything at all. Golden wheat, purple mountains, all that jazz. I’m at a loss for words, and whether that is because of my surroundings or if I truly have nothing to say I don’t know. Considering I have been in Sweden for almost a month now, and at school for just about 3 weeks, I have nothing considerably interesting to write. The school is a tiny little place, with good food, and a lot of fun people. The town in a tiny little place, with good food, and a lot of fun people. And I suppose can be said for Sweden as a whole. Perhaps part of the reason I don’t have anything to write is because I have to concentrate so hard to bridge the language gap that I am losing my memory and appreciation of events. Because plenty of things have happened. I’ve gotten locked out of my room and had to initiate a secret agent type entry by going in through the window. I have gone of on the town/village with friends from school. I’ve spent real quality time with my grandparents, something I’ve never really been able to do. All this and no commentary or description.
WE HAVE LIFT OFF! We just took part in our program’s first official trip. We weren’t in some far away land surrounded by jungle, or dangerous animals, or an unstudied group of people, but on a trip through the forests of Sweden. This was a treat for me, for even though I have seen most of the south of Sweden; I never really went exploring or camping. Something that gives one a completely different feel for the area. The entire international program went on this 2-day excursion. The prospect was met with varied moans, complaints, and from some squeals of excitement, myself included. The proposed plan was a 7 or 8-kilometer hike to our overnight, and then the next day a 14 or 15 kilometer hike to the ocean. In real Swedish fashion, the only thing people were chatting about now was whether or not the sun would be out and we could lie on the beach. As soon as the sun is out Swedes flock to the beach like something else flocking to somewhere else.
8/29/09
I don know what to write, what to write, something. I need to write something. What use is a blog if you don’t write anything? Anything at all. Golden wheat, purple mountains, all that jazz. I’m at a loss for words, and whether that is because of my surroundings or if I truly have nothing to say I don’t know. Considering I have been in Sweden for almost a month now, and at school for just about 3 weeks, I have nothing considerably interesting to write. The school is a tiny little place, with good food, and a lot of fun people. The town in a tiny little place, with good food, and a lot of fun people. And I suppose can be said for Sweden as a whole. Perhaps part of the reason I don’t have anything to write is because I have to concentrate so hard to bridge the language gap that I am losing my memory and appreciation of events. Because plenty of things have happened. I’ve gotten locked out of my room and had to initiate a secret agent type entry by going in through the window. I have gone of on the town/village with friends from school. I’ve spent real quality time with my grandparents, something I’ve never really been able to do. All this and no commentary or description.
Links to Photos
I uploaded my photos to facebook, check em out
Venice: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=140871&id=614390759&op=6
Florence: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144696&id=614390759
Rome: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144697&id=614390759
Paris: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144698&id=614390759
Bruges: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144699&id=614390759
Amsterdam: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144702&id=614390759
Berlin: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144703&id=614390759
Venice: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=140871&id=614390759&op=6
Florence: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144696&id=614390759
Rome: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144697&id=614390759
Paris: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144698&id=614390759
Bruges: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144699&id=614390759
Amsterdam: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144702&id=614390759
Berlin: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144703&id=614390759
Friday, August 21, 2009
Amsterdam/Bruges/Berlin '09
8/01 Bruges, We Hardly Knew Yee
Bruges was a quaint place, but that's all i really have to say quaint. There is not much to do, and there are tourists everywhere. Plus, we were going to stay with someone we met at the hostel in Venice, but he didn't respond, so we had to rush and find a hostel. It all worked out but the hostel was like a converted hospital, not very conducive to having fun. Maybe I will come back when I have more money and can stay in a nicer place. But its no Venice of the North.
8/02 I AMSTERDAM
Not much to write, not because nothing happend, but I am pretty sure writing about it is a crime.
8/03 Hola Chicas!
This is why you travel. To find fun people and hang out. The Brazilians were the funniest people we have met the whole trip. They even made the tram ride to the Van Gogh museum fun.
8/04 Hostel #2
Glad we changed hostels, this one is cheaper, nicer, and has a coffeeshop downstairs.
8/05 Don’t be a buzkill… bicycles they are everywhere
These Brits arent as fun as they said they would be, but maybe thats a good thing. Maybe we need to slow our adventure down a bit. The free tour was great. Four hours, great guide, tons of information and stories. A perfect end to our Amsterdam trip.
8/06 I am a donut! (Ich bin ein Berliner)
I wish we could spend more than a day in Berlin. I can definetly tell I want to come back. The Holocaust and Berlin wall memorials were very moving. Its hard to imagine all the pain those people went through. And for what?
8/07 Sweden here we come
Four hours standing on a crowded train. At least I will get a home cooked meal tonight. The trip is done. I feel no regret or sadness, because I know a new adventure is about to begin.
Bruges was a quaint place, but that's all i really have to say quaint. There is not much to do, and there are tourists everywhere. Plus, we were going to stay with someone we met at the hostel in Venice, but he didn't respond, so we had to rush and find a hostel. It all worked out but the hostel was like a converted hospital, not very conducive to having fun. Maybe I will come back when I have more money and can stay in a nicer place. But its no Venice of the North.
8/02 I AMSTERDAM
Not much to write, not because nothing happend, but I am pretty sure writing about it is a crime.
8/03 Hola Chicas!
This is why you travel. To find fun people and hang out. The Brazilians were the funniest people we have met the whole trip. They even made the tram ride to the Van Gogh museum fun.
8/04 Hostel #2
Glad we changed hostels, this one is cheaper, nicer, and has a coffeeshop downstairs.
8/05 Don’t be a buzkill… bicycles they are everywhere
These Brits arent as fun as they said they would be, but maybe thats a good thing. Maybe we need to slow our adventure down a bit. The free tour was great. Four hours, great guide, tons of information and stories. A perfect end to our Amsterdam trip.
8/06 I am a donut! (Ich bin ein Berliner)
I wish we could spend more than a day in Berlin. I can definetly tell I want to come back. The Holocaust and Berlin wall memorials were very moving. Its hard to imagine all the pain those people went through. And for what?
8/07 Sweden here we come
Four hours standing on a crowded train. At least I will get a home cooked meal tonight. The trip is done. I feel no regret or sadness, because I know a new adventure is about to begin.
Paris '09
7/27/09 I Feel Much Cleaner After It Rains
Walking off the train platform and into the station, I could immediately feel a change. It was quieter, more relaxed, and more importantly we weren’t being baked alive. 5 days in Paris seems so miniscule and insignificant as I remember back to AP Euro and the 100’s of years of history this city holds. It will be really nice to stay with Tim, I can tell already. He is so warm and willing to show us a city he says is arguably the most stunning on Earth. Almost as soon as we arrive at Tim’s it began to rain. I saw the rain not as an unfortunate low-pressure system that will ruin my trip, but that Paris will act as a clean slate for me to restart my trip on. We spent a few hours walking around; we saw the Louvre, Bastille, Champ-Elyse, and Arch de Triumph. All but the infamous tower. We came back for a nap, which was needed by all, then spent the night with Tim and his friends. Wine, falafel, wonderful people, and a city where dreams come true. This will be a great 5 days.
7/28/09 Oh, False One You Have Deceived Me
Today was one of those days where you can’t really prove anything got done, but it was filled with adventure. It seems like everything we planned for the day didn’t happen. Go to a church, funeral. Go to another church, funeral. Pantheon, no go. And the coup de grace, fika, the Swedish wonder word. It put its roots in Paris, but nej, it too was closed. But walking around Paris with a bunch of “locals” really made it worthwhile. Paris, unlike Rome, had integrated well their historical past and bustling modern city. You can still feel the revolution in every cobblestone, brick and park. After some time walking around, we headed back to the apartment to eat and recoup, for the night held prospects of a free boat tour on the Seine, and indeed it did. I always like taking a less travelled, more abstract route through a city, especially one as multi faceted as the city of lights. We meandered under bridges and past canals as the city floated by beside us. We then headed to Rachel and Becca’s apartment to stock up and head out to the bar. The rest of the night was a midnight feast of conversation and booze, the ultimate mix.
7/29/09 Drink and You Will Believe
I don’t really feel that I am in Paris, but rather in some comforting place with a bunch of people that I am just hanging with and having a good time. We spent the first half of the day relaxing, waiting to go check into our hostel. I love that in Europe not only does it stay light out longer, but if the first thing you do is t 2 o’clock you still have a full day ahead. We got to the hostel, checked in, and took care of some travel administration duties at the train station. Then we were off to the Lourve. You want to talk about massive, the Lourve makes me feel like an ant. Not just because of the sheer size of the place, but the expanse of time the art covers, from antiquity to modern. On top of it all I got in for free because of a law making French sights free to EU citizens, 18-26. Thank you Monsieur Sarkozy.
7/30/09 Lets See The Sights
Paris really is a magical city more so than Rome, in that it blends old with new harmoniously, and in a way that still protects its history. The history is really what I'm here for. Winnie’s AP class was the perfect intro. I’m so glad I took the time and put in the work to take the class. I am sitting in a ark right next to Eiffel’s tower, and interestingly enough the height and age do nothing for me. It is the reminiscence of the Hollywood sign that causes me to be taken aback, For, with both, when you find a place with a good view of the whole thing, no pictures, and when good picture taking opportunities come about, alas. No view. I’m not sure if I am homesick or have no other reference point. It is definitely becoming apparent to met hat 1 year is a long time. I have done so much, seen so many sights, and met so many people in 14 days I cant even begin to imagine what a year will be like. Certainly not bad, but long. I wonder, as I travel around with a group of other people, will I get the same exciting-button pushing-wonder filled – annoyed experience you get when you travel with just one person. I guess I will find out soon.
7/31/09 It Was All A Dream
Thank god the day is over. 90% of the day was absolutely fine. It was the other 10% that ruined the rest. We, or rather I, planned a day trip to Versailles today. Train=perfect, tickets and bag check= a breeze, chateau= thumbs up, free exhibit= nice, bag pick up= ape shit crazy. First I go to get my bag, its closed for a security scare. Finally get in, guess what’s missing from the backpack? The bag with checks, U.S. passport, and Eurail pass. Who knew checking your valuables into a secure bag holding system instead of carrying them on your fanny for all to see was not the safe and secure one. Lo and behold its not there, 45 minutes of searching and blame, still not there. I got to the Lost and Found, no go. Luckily two hours later after leaving and calming down, it is found. I’m not holding any grudges, but I think the beast behind the counter could have been nicer and maybe be sympathetic before blaming me and gossiping about it in French. Excuse me, I know what “touriste’ + eye roll equals. All I know is now this zippered monstrosity never leaves my side. Sorry sun king, I don’t know if I can look at you the same anymore. Well a nice decompression at the hostel should help.
Walking off the train platform and into the station, I could immediately feel a change. It was quieter, more relaxed, and more importantly we weren’t being baked alive. 5 days in Paris seems so miniscule and insignificant as I remember back to AP Euro and the 100’s of years of history this city holds. It will be really nice to stay with Tim, I can tell already. He is so warm and willing to show us a city he says is arguably the most stunning on Earth. Almost as soon as we arrive at Tim’s it began to rain. I saw the rain not as an unfortunate low-pressure system that will ruin my trip, but that Paris will act as a clean slate for me to restart my trip on. We spent a few hours walking around; we saw the Louvre, Bastille, Champ-Elyse, and Arch de Triumph. All but the infamous tower. We came back for a nap, which was needed by all, then spent the night with Tim and his friends. Wine, falafel, wonderful people, and a city where dreams come true. This will be a great 5 days.
7/28/09 Oh, False One You Have Deceived Me
Today was one of those days where you can’t really prove anything got done, but it was filled with adventure. It seems like everything we planned for the day didn’t happen. Go to a church, funeral. Go to another church, funeral. Pantheon, no go. And the coup de grace, fika, the Swedish wonder word. It put its roots in Paris, but nej, it too was closed. But walking around Paris with a bunch of “locals” really made it worthwhile. Paris, unlike Rome, had integrated well their historical past and bustling modern city. You can still feel the revolution in every cobblestone, brick and park. After some time walking around, we headed back to the apartment to eat and recoup, for the night held prospects of a free boat tour on the Seine, and indeed it did. I always like taking a less travelled, more abstract route through a city, especially one as multi faceted as the city of lights. We meandered under bridges and past canals as the city floated by beside us. We then headed to Rachel and Becca’s apartment to stock up and head out to the bar. The rest of the night was a midnight feast of conversation and booze, the ultimate mix.
7/29/09 Drink and You Will Believe
I don’t really feel that I am in Paris, but rather in some comforting place with a bunch of people that I am just hanging with and having a good time. We spent the first half of the day relaxing, waiting to go check into our hostel. I love that in Europe not only does it stay light out longer, but if the first thing you do is t 2 o’clock you still have a full day ahead. We got to the hostel, checked in, and took care of some travel administration duties at the train station. Then we were off to the Lourve. You want to talk about massive, the Lourve makes me feel like an ant. Not just because of the sheer size of the place, but the expanse of time the art covers, from antiquity to modern. On top of it all I got in for free because of a law making French sights free to EU citizens, 18-26. Thank you Monsieur Sarkozy.
7/30/09 Lets See The Sights
Paris really is a magical city more so than Rome, in that it blends old with new harmoniously, and in a way that still protects its history. The history is really what I'm here for. Winnie’s AP class was the perfect intro. I’m so glad I took the time and put in the work to take the class. I am sitting in a ark right next to Eiffel’s tower, and interestingly enough the height and age do nothing for me. It is the reminiscence of the Hollywood sign that causes me to be taken aback, For, with both, when you find a place with a good view of the whole thing, no pictures, and when good picture taking opportunities come about, alas. No view. I’m not sure if I am homesick or have no other reference point. It is definitely becoming apparent to met hat 1 year is a long time. I have done so much, seen so many sights, and met so many people in 14 days I cant even begin to imagine what a year will be like. Certainly not bad, but long. I wonder, as I travel around with a group of other people, will I get the same exciting-button pushing-wonder filled – annoyed experience you get when you travel with just one person. I guess I will find out soon.
7/31/09 It Was All A Dream
Thank god the day is over. 90% of the day was absolutely fine. It was the other 10% that ruined the rest. We, or rather I, planned a day trip to Versailles today. Train=perfect, tickets and bag check= a breeze, chateau= thumbs up, free exhibit= nice, bag pick up= ape shit crazy. First I go to get my bag, its closed for a security scare. Finally get in, guess what’s missing from the backpack? The bag with checks, U.S. passport, and Eurail pass. Who knew checking your valuables into a secure bag holding system instead of carrying them on your fanny for all to see was not the safe and secure one. Lo and behold its not there, 45 minutes of searching and blame, still not there. I got to the Lost and Found, no go. Luckily two hours later after leaving and calming down, it is found. I’m not holding any grudges, but I think the beast behind the counter could have been nicer and maybe be sympathetic before blaming me and gossiping about it in French. Excuse me, I know what “touriste’ + eye roll equals. All I know is now this zippered monstrosity never leaves my side. Sorry sun king, I don’t know if I can look at you the same anymore. Well a nice decompression at the hostel should help.
Rome '09
7/21/09 The Leaning Tower
Waking up two hours earlier than normal can certainly take a toll on you A 1.5 hour train ride felt like 3, and one of us had to stay awake, me. So even longer. We got to Pisa and it was a rush to see the tower and get back to the train in time. The tower was a bit underwhelming, either because it is exactly what it looks like in all the pictures, and it is not nearly as grandiose as some make it seem. It’s an old broken bell tower for Chris sakes. Our rush was unneeded because our train was an hour late, an hour spent leaning up against a vending machine reading a book. The train ride gave me some time to rest, but the constant humming of the train and the seemingly endless chatter of pre-teen Italian girls stymied any real chance I had. We got to Rome and headed straight for he hostel. A little place on the outskirts of Rome surrounded by apartment buildings and construction. As night came on, some of us from the hostel headed out for a Pub Crawl, a group of inebriated tourists being led from blub to blub, like sheep to pasture. For a price of 20 Euros you get unlimited drinks for an hour, a shot at each club, and a fun filled night. Dancing, Drinking, Dancing, and finally a late bus home. A good start to our Roman holiday
7/22/09 Oh what a night
9 a.m. sharp I was up and planning the day: Train tickets, Colosseum, and the Palatine Hill. Getting off the metro and seeing the Colosseum rising into the sky evoked such feelings of history and insignificance that I almost keeled over, and had to stop to steady myself. To be able to walk where Caesar and countless others have walked for thousands of years is quite odd. Rome is a bit of an enigma to me. A city that at its peak was the largest, most powerful in the world, only to be surpassed 100’s of years later by an industrial 1800’s London, is somehow not itself. Or at least doesn’t feel like the city I have read countless stories about. Kebab carts, tour busses, and apartment buildings punctuate the ancient skyline, while the ancient stone buildings sink behind the smog. I always pictured it less influenced by modern society than it actually is, but the ancient city is worth the traffic, heat, and hoards of tourists. The night was spent wandering the city streets in search of a club, only to be told the city closes down on Wednesdays. Every wrong turn, every dead end, and every wrong bus stop is but one more notch on the bedpost that is life.
7/23/09 The Cult of Personality
I wasn’t quite sure how the Vatican Museum would affect me. Besides the obvious fact that to me Jesus is just some guy in a book with a bunch of good morals, but because I have studied the history and know the corruption and false hope the Church has been responsible for. Never the less, our tour was spectacular. The price is a bit of a rip of, its not like the Church is desperate for funds I mean they have their own country, but it is definitely worth it. Our guide was this little, spunky, hippie lady fro, Northern California, who was able to bring a sense of relevancy to a lot of the pieces. The 100’s of rooms are covered ceiling to floor. Every inch, every centimeter an important part of history. You can’t even begin to describe Michelangelo’s genius. Every part of his work is filled with hidden meaning and jokery. I left the Sistine Chapel and Saint Peter’s Basilica in awe and shock. If this was all I saw in Rome, I would be merrily content. The history of art is relevant in every aspect of life, as is life relevant in every aspect of art. The mind’s constant chatter can only be stopped, by the soothing voice of an artist and his medium. Through art you can send messages to the future showing them you knew, long before they even thought of it.
7/24/09 Today we did…Uh?
Well as one must learn eventually, one mistake can lead to a day filled with nothing to do. When we booked our ticket to Paris we booked a day late. This meant we needed to spend our day waiting in line at the train station to try and fix the problem. Qué sera sera, what ever will be will be. We couldn’t change the date, but luckily we were able to book an extra night at the hostel. The rest of our day was spent lounging around until nightfall, when the fun would begin…for some. Unfortunately for me, some men just can’t hold their arsenic. My travel companion fits the stereotype of the eighteen-year-old American traveler too well. Loud, pushy, and lacking all but a drop of self-control. I ended up spending the nigh with two insanely drunk people, and two others who were in my boat. We were the shepherds, and they are sheep, but deep down I wished they were lemmings, so I would be out of work. But he’s an adult and will have to learn to take care of himself one way or another. I just hope he learns soon.
7/25/09 The Last Frontier
Today was our last real day in Rome, and perhaps the most productive one. We went sightseeing with some people in the hostel, and got to see almost all of Rome. We followed the winding streets of Rome from the tourist packed Spanish Steps, to the marble masterpiece that is La Fontana de Trevi, and finally to the Pantheon, an ancient and spectacular edifice. Rome as opposed to Venice or Florence isn’t really a place I want to wander. It is just too busy and fast to appreciate walking around. We walked over to a little market by the Pope’s fortress, which was nice because I got a little bit of time away from Zac. I wonder if my travel experience would differ if I were with someone that had little bit more interest in what we are doing and seeing. It’s not that he isn’t interested, but neutral on everything, so I feel he is sort of sucking out my energy, but as soon as I am around those who have a specific interest, I am refreshed. Maybe it will change when we are in Paris.
7/26/09 It’s Only Been Six Hours
We just happen to be leaving Rome the day its below 90º. God has a sick sense of humor. Even though we have a whole day left, it will be spent waiting in the train station, because of these backpacks, 45 pounds of my life stuffed in a bag. First though we got our laundry done. Sadly, I am more excited about the fact that I have a clean towel than the fact that we are going to Paris. And I’m pretty damn excited about going to Paris. Also, these clothes will last longer because we wont be sweating buckets anymore. I started a book this morning, and now I get on the train and I’m finished. The 7 hours went by fast, but now once again I have nothing to do. These empty days do me well, a day to recoup and forget past aggressions, as well as everyone’s transgressions.
Waking up two hours earlier than normal can certainly take a toll on you A 1.5 hour train ride felt like 3, and one of us had to stay awake, me. So even longer. We got to Pisa and it was a rush to see the tower and get back to the train in time. The tower was a bit underwhelming, either because it is exactly what it looks like in all the pictures, and it is not nearly as grandiose as some make it seem. It’s an old broken bell tower for Chris sakes. Our rush was unneeded because our train was an hour late, an hour spent leaning up against a vending machine reading a book. The train ride gave me some time to rest, but the constant humming of the train and the seemingly endless chatter of pre-teen Italian girls stymied any real chance I had. We got to Rome and headed straight for he hostel. A little place on the outskirts of Rome surrounded by apartment buildings and construction. As night came on, some of us from the hostel headed out for a Pub Crawl, a group of inebriated tourists being led from blub to blub, like sheep to pasture. For a price of 20 Euros you get unlimited drinks for an hour, a shot at each club, and a fun filled night. Dancing, Drinking, Dancing, and finally a late bus home. A good start to our Roman holiday
7/22/09 Oh what a night
9 a.m. sharp I was up and planning the day: Train tickets, Colosseum, and the Palatine Hill. Getting off the metro and seeing the Colosseum rising into the sky evoked such feelings of history and insignificance that I almost keeled over, and had to stop to steady myself. To be able to walk where Caesar and countless others have walked for thousands of years is quite odd. Rome is a bit of an enigma to me. A city that at its peak was the largest, most powerful in the world, only to be surpassed 100’s of years later by an industrial 1800’s London, is somehow not itself. Or at least doesn’t feel like the city I have read countless stories about. Kebab carts, tour busses, and apartment buildings punctuate the ancient skyline, while the ancient stone buildings sink behind the smog. I always pictured it less influenced by modern society than it actually is, but the ancient city is worth the traffic, heat, and hoards of tourists. The night was spent wandering the city streets in search of a club, only to be told the city closes down on Wednesdays. Every wrong turn, every dead end, and every wrong bus stop is but one more notch on the bedpost that is life.
7/23/09 The Cult of Personality
I wasn’t quite sure how the Vatican Museum would affect me. Besides the obvious fact that to me Jesus is just some guy in a book with a bunch of good morals, but because I have studied the history and know the corruption and false hope the Church has been responsible for. Never the less, our tour was spectacular. The price is a bit of a rip of, its not like the Church is desperate for funds I mean they have their own country, but it is definitely worth it. Our guide was this little, spunky, hippie lady fro, Northern California, who was able to bring a sense of relevancy to a lot of the pieces. The 100’s of rooms are covered ceiling to floor. Every inch, every centimeter an important part of history. You can’t even begin to describe Michelangelo’s genius. Every part of his work is filled with hidden meaning and jokery. I left the Sistine Chapel and Saint Peter’s Basilica in awe and shock. If this was all I saw in Rome, I would be merrily content. The history of art is relevant in every aspect of life, as is life relevant in every aspect of art. The mind’s constant chatter can only be stopped, by the soothing voice of an artist and his medium. Through art you can send messages to the future showing them you knew, long before they even thought of it.
7/24/09 Today we did…Uh?
Well as one must learn eventually, one mistake can lead to a day filled with nothing to do. When we booked our ticket to Paris we booked a day late. This meant we needed to spend our day waiting in line at the train station to try and fix the problem. Qué sera sera, what ever will be will be. We couldn’t change the date, but luckily we were able to book an extra night at the hostel. The rest of our day was spent lounging around until nightfall, when the fun would begin…for some. Unfortunately for me, some men just can’t hold their arsenic. My travel companion fits the stereotype of the eighteen-year-old American traveler too well. Loud, pushy, and lacking all but a drop of self-control. I ended up spending the nigh with two insanely drunk people, and two others who were in my boat. We were the shepherds, and they are sheep, but deep down I wished they were lemmings, so I would be out of work. But he’s an adult and will have to learn to take care of himself one way or another. I just hope he learns soon.
7/25/09 The Last Frontier
Today was our last real day in Rome, and perhaps the most productive one. We went sightseeing with some people in the hostel, and got to see almost all of Rome. We followed the winding streets of Rome from the tourist packed Spanish Steps, to the marble masterpiece that is La Fontana de Trevi, and finally to the Pantheon, an ancient and spectacular edifice. Rome as opposed to Venice or Florence isn’t really a place I want to wander. It is just too busy and fast to appreciate walking around. We walked over to a little market by the Pope’s fortress, which was nice because I got a little bit of time away from Zac. I wonder if my travel experience would differ if I were with someone that had little bit more interest in what we are doing and seeing. It’s not that he isn’t interested, but neutral on everything, so I feel he is sort of sucking out my energy, but as soon as I am around those who have a specific interest, I am refreshed. Maybe it will change when we are in Paris.
7/26/09 It’s Only Been Six Hours
We just happen to be leaving Rome the day its below 90º. God has a sick sense of humor. Even though we have a whole day left, it will be spent waiting in the train station, because of these backpacks, 45 pounds of my life stuffed in a bag. First though we got our laundry done. Sadly, I am more excited about the fact that I have a clean towel than the fact that we are going to Paris. And I’m pretty damn excited about going to Paris. Also, these clothes will last longer because we wont be sweating buckets anymore. I started a book this morning, and now I get on the train and I’m finished. The 7 hours went by fast, but now once again I have nothing to do. These empty days do me well, a day to recoup and forget past aggressions, as well as everyone’s transgressions.
Florence '09
7/19/09 Stuck In A Grove
A seemingly easy morning led to 2 hours in the train station, sitting in the wrong seats, and a bunch if walking. When we arrived at our hostel in Florence, I was completely taken aback. A little hostel community, in an ancient grove of olive trees, overlooking the stunning view of Florence. Once we settled in Zac collapsed into a comatose state, only to be awoken 4 hours later. I took this unique opportunity to sit and absorb my surroundings. As a breeze rolled through the trees and over the hill, I could feel the transcendent beauty and history coursing through my veins. Something uniquely European. As the night surreptitiously approached we left with some Americans, the tent down, to find dinner. And did we ever. The widely accepted myth, that when travelling cheaply you trade in flavor for price, was shattered tonight. Ostedia de Pacci, a small, eclectic, family run restaurant could easily be missed. That would be a big mistake. Taking a hint from our waiter, I ordered, Ravioli perre con pecorino. The butter basted freshly made pasta dough, was covered with sautéed radicchio and garlic, and filled with the perfect blend of cheeses. My normal voracious, and somewhat haphazard, eating was replaced with an almost surgeon like precision and priestly patience. Time slowed. No speech, no thoughts, just utter bliss. The meal would have been worth all my money, luckily it wasn’t. We soon left the gastronomic heaven for a bottle of wine and midnight tour of the city. Florence I have caught your bug.
7/20/09 O, David Where Art Thou?
Going to Florence and not seeing the David is like going to Boston and not seeing a Red Sox Fan. Everyone does. The one difference being one generally wants to see the David. We did see almost everything else in Florence. When you get to see it at night with no one around as we were able to do, and then stuffed with tourists, you really see two sides to the city. Florence is an incredibly small city. You can walk from one end to the other in less than an hour. The city exudes more of a “modern city” feel, and it really stands out in the day. When you see Il Duomo, an ancient masterpiece, next to cars and stands selling t-shirts telling you that you love Florence, you really notice a city with two lives.
A seemingly easy morning led to 2 hours in the train station, sitting in the wrong seats, and a bunch if walking. When we arrived at our hostel in Florence, I was completely taken aback. A little hostel community, in an ancient grove of olive trees, overlooking the stunning view of Florence. Once we settled in Zac collapsed into a comatose state, only to be awoken 4 hours later. I took this unique opportunity to sit and absorb my surroundings. As a breeze rolled through the trees and over the hill, I could feel the transcendent beauty and history coursing through my veins. Something uniquely European. As the night surreptitiously approached we left with some Americans, the tent down, to find dinner. And did we ever. The widely accepted myth, that when travelling cheaply you trade in flavor for price, was shattered tonight. Ostedia de Pacci, a small, eclectic, family run restaurant could easily be missed. That would be a big mistake. Taking a hint from our waiter, I ordered, Ravioli perre con pecorino. The butter basted freshly made pasta dough, was covered with sautéed radicchio and garlic, and filled with the perfect blend of cheeses. My normal voracious, and somewhat haphazard, eating was replaced with an almost surgeon like precision and priestly patience. Time slowed. No speech, no thoughts, just utter bliss. The meal would have been worth all my money, luckily it wasn’t. We soon left the gastronomic heaven for a bottle of wine and midnight tour of the city. Florence I have caught your bug.
7/20/09 O, David Where Art Thou?
Going to Florence and not seeing the David is like going to Boston and not seeing a Red Sox Fan. Everyone does. The one difference being one generally wants to see the David. We did see almost everything else in Florence. When you get to see it at night with no one around as we were able to do, and then stuffed with tourists, you really see two sides to the city. Florence is an incredibly small city. You can walk from one end to the other in less than an hour. The city exudes more of a “modern city” feel, and it really stands out in the day. When you see Il Duomo, an ancient masterpiece, next to cars and stands selling t-shirts telling you that you love Florence, you really notice a city with two lives.
Venice '09 photos
Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=140871&id=614390759&saved#/album.php?aid=140871&id=614390759
Italy (Venice)
7/16/09 You’re Not Lost If They Give You Bad Directions
We stepped off the plane only to be met by the sweltering Venetian summer. The stark contrast between cold recycled air and that of this rich city really made me realize: our adventure had begun. As soon as it began things began to go wrong. Our bus choice, #12, given to us by the hostel’s directions was the wrong one. In our triumphant youth we thought we’d be able to walk back and find the site. We were wrong. 2hrs, 100º, and a 30-euro taxi ride later, we arrived at our hostel. After a swim and settling in, we set off to Venezia. The contrast of hand carved stones and ancient brick against a backdrop of bright lights and diesel engines gives the city of art and trades an indescribable personality. To see tourists walking the masterfully laid stone streets, while locals yell from their windows is a testament to how the city has changed. Did the city’s architects and builders think that in just a few centuries their city of rebirth would be standing next to an airport and cruise ships? The city is certainly enchanting, and I'm sure even more so in the midday sun, and hotter as well. Now to rest these tired feet and prepare for tomorrow.
7/17/09 A Venice Fish
I did expect our time in Venice to be filled with losing our way and getting lost in its winding streets, but not nearly as much as this. We planned our day on going to San Marco and eating at a pizza place recommended by our book. We didn’t even get to San Marco. The maps seem to omit all warning of dead ends, street names and alleyways, this all leads to a search based solely on luck. By the time we found the pizza place we were ready to collapse. Carrying around a 40-pound backpack and 10 lb bag certainly drains you. We soon recuperated after some pizza and beer and went to find the hostel. That, thankfully, was not hard to find. The hostel is an old building on the canal that looks like it has seen both the rule of Nero and Mussolini. Sitting in the common room you meet a rag-tag team of hostellers. Young, old, from all over. Looking for a good time. The people we met were all so friendly and entertaining, and I was more than happy to spend a night out with them. Though there isn’t much in the way of nightlife in Venice, two bottles of wine for 6 Euros was more than sufficient. We spent the night swapping travel stories and talking about the crazy lady with her boob hanging out, and he creepy guy with the binoculars.
7/18/09 Turn Off The Lights And On Goes The Night
The final day in Venice. It was the coupe de grace, a perfect ending. We spent the day with Ashleigh and Brynn, two Canadians who are now friends. We strolled through the labyrinthine streets on our way to the park. What a cheap way to have fun, 2 Euros for snacks from the supermarket and hours of conversation. What could be better? We soon found ourselves in the Piazza Del San Marco, an avian infested square surrounded by some of the most exquisite and ambitious buildings ever seen. To think it was all built by hand without the help of modern technology is incomprehensible. That couldn’t be done today, our lives have become to codependent on luxuries and we have forgotten our roots as a species that uses its hands to get things done. If anything I ever do is half as long lived I would be completely overwhelmed. Later, dinner with Zoe and Danyce. Dinner was par, but the company was worth a tip. I knew I’d meet people, but never expected to meet those that I would truly want to keep in contact with. That night our hostel lived up to its infamy. We were taken out to one of the biggest parties ever. One in memory of those who died in the plague, wow we are really in Europe now. San Marco square filled with the inebriated, intoxicated, libated, and castrated (well who knows about the last one.) A fireworks show to end all (I never understood the human fascination with loud noises and bright lights), human pee shield, and late night mission to find the hostel. I had to replace our leader, to find the hostel. The leader who said, “Lead? I lead no one! (You might want to check your job description)
We stepped off the plane only to be met by the sweltering Venetian summer. The stark contrast between cold recycled air and that of this rich city really made me realize: our adventure had begun. As soon as it began things began to go wrong. Our bus choice, #12, given to us by the hostel’s directions was the wrong one. In our triumphant youth we thought we’d be able to walk back and find the site. We were wrong. 2hrs, 100º, and a 30-euro taxi ride later, we arrived at our hostel. After a swim and settling in, we set off to Venezia. The contrast of hand carved stones and ancient brick against a backdrop of bright lights and diesel engines gives the city of art and trades an indescribable personality. To see tourists walking the masterfully laid stone streets, while locals yell from their windows is a testament to how the city has changed. Did the city’s architects and builders think that in just a few centuries their city of rebirth would be standing next to an airport and cruise ships? The city is certainly enchanting, and I'm sure even more so in the midday sun, and hotter as well. Now to rest these tired feet and prepare for tomorrow.
7/17/09 A Venice Fish
I did expect our time in Venice to be filled with losing our way and getting lost in its winding streets, but not nearly as much as this. We planned our day on going to San Marco and eating at a pizza place recommended by our book. We didn’t even get to San Marco. The maps seem to omit all warning of dead ends, street names and alleyways, this all leads to a search based solely on luck. By the time we found the pizza place we were ready to collapse. Carrying around a 40-pound backpack and 10 lb bag certainly drains you. We soon recuperated after some pizza and beer and went to find the hostel. That, thankfully, was not hard to find. The hostel is an old building on the canal that looks like it has seen both the rule of Nero and Mussolini. Sitting in the common room you meet a rag-tag team of hostellers. Young, old, from all over. Looking for a good time. The people we met were all so friendly and entertaining, and I was more than happy to spend a night out with them. Though there isn’t much in the way of nightlife in Venice, two bottles of wine for 6 Euros was more than sufficient. We spent the night swapping travel stories and talking about the crazy lady with her boob hanging out, and he creepy guy with the binoculars.
7/18/09 Turn Off The Lights And On Goes The Night
The final day in Venice. It was the coupe de grace, a perfect ending. We spent the day with Ashleigh and Brynn, two Canadians who are now friends. We strolled through the labyrinthine streets on our way to the park. What a cheap way to have fun, 2 Euros for snacks from the supermarket and hours of conversation. What could be better? We soon found ourselves in the Piazza Del San Marco, an avian infested square surrounded by some of the most exquisite and ambitious buildings ever seen. To think it was all built by hand without the help of modern technology is incomprehensible. That couldn’t be done today, our lives have become to codependent on luxuries and we have forgotten our roots as a species that uses its hands to get things done. If anything I ever do is half as long lived I would be completely overwhelmed. Later, dinner with Zoe and Danyce. Dinner was par, but the company was worth a tip. I knew I’d meet people, but never expected to meet those that I would truly want to keep in contact with. That night our hostel lived up to its infamy. We were taken out to one of the biggest parties ever. One in memory of those who died in the plague, wow we are really in Europe now. San Marco square filled with the inebriated, intoxicated, libated, and castrated (well who knows about the last one.) A fireworks show to end all (I never understood the human fascination with loud noises and bright lights), human pee shield, and late night mission to find the hostel. I had to replace our leader, to find the hostel. The leader who said, “Lead? I lead no one! (You might want to check your job description)
Pittsburgh
7/8/09 Late Night, Long Flight
It’s about 3 am; I’m sitting in the last row of a plane that appears to be from time immemorial. The 70’s color, carpets, and costumes make for a unique experience. Even with my earplugs in the roar of the engines and the drag of the wind seem to rattle my brain, but that might just be the nerves. I am leaving home and won’t be back as the same person. The distance hasn’t become apparent yet, as less then 6 hours ago I could hug my mom or pet my dog. I wouldn’t say I’m scared, but it unnerves me to some degree to know I could never come back. I look to my left at the large old woman next to me for some sort of unconscious reassurance that everything will work out, but all I see are sad eyes, and I need to look away.
7/9/09 Invalid Move Asshole
My worries have all but dissipated, the initial fear is replaced by excitement. It’s going to happen soon. I feel as though I never left the Burgh last summer, and fall back into the predictable routine at once. I’m still not sure what Zac will be like travelling, but he will either learn or get left behind. Modern day evolution at work. Did Darwin expect the world to turn out this way? A place where one species could be so different just by being separated by the ocean. Well I suppose its both the years and history behind them. That and divergent evolution. And who knew a game of solitaire could be so fun?
7/10/09 The Paranoia Always Sets In
7/11/09 God Forgives All, Even That
It’s somewhere around 2 am, on our way to McDonalds. I cant believe it, and I just saw a sign that has sent me flying like a brick to the face. Doubt. That’s what its all about. You doubt yourself; you doubt others, and you apparently, by doubting a sign written by a man, God. I have doubts that I have been able to quell and others not. Doesn’t that make me human? Or just a blasphemous satanic nut. Driving at night puts one in a stupor, but everything seems more vivid. An otherwise boring uneventful American day just became meaningful.
7/13/09 I Cant Say No
7/14/09 Our Last Night
One more night until we leave. I keep tossing and turning thinking of all the things we will do, and all the things we will see. I can't believe I've already been in Pittsburgh for a week. To tell you the truth the whole thing is a bit of a blur as I was always looking ahead, not concentrating on the present. But what do you expect when you are about to embark on the biggest adventure of your life?
7/15/09 Up In The Air
I can't believe we are already on our way. Hours of planning and months of anticipation and the day has arrived. We fly from Pittsburgh to Dulles, Dulles to London, and London to Rome. I just hope I can sleep on the plane.... we will see.
It’s about 3 am; I’m sitting in the last row of a plane that appears to be from time immemorial. The 70’s color, carpets, and costumes make for a unique experience. Even with my earplugs in the roar of the engines and the drag of the wind seem to rattle my brain, but that might just be the nerves. I am leaving home and won’t be back as the same person. The distance hasn’t become apparent yet, as less then 6 hours ago I could hug my mom or pet my dog. I wouldn’t say I’m scared, but it unnerves me to some degree to know I could never come back. I look to my left at the large old woman next to me for some sort of unconscious reassurance that everything will work out, but all I see are sad eyes, and I need to look away.
7/9/09 Invalid Move Asshole
My worries have all but dissipated, the initial fear is replaced by excitement. It’s going to happen soon. I feel as though I never left the Burgh last summer, and fall back into the predictable routine at once. I’m still not sure what Zac will be like travelling, but he will either learn or get left behind. Modern day evolution at work. Did Darwin expect the world to turn out this way? A place where one species could be so different just by being separated by the ocean. Well I suppose its both the years and history behind them. That and divergent evolution. And who knew a game of solitaire could be so fun?
7/10/09 The Paranoia Always Sets In
7/11/09 God Forgives All, Even That
It’s somewhere around 2 am, on our way to McDonalds. I cant believe it, and I just saw a sign that has sent me flying like a brick to the face. Doubt. That’s what its all about. You doubt yourself; you doubt others, and you apparently, by doubting a sign written by a man, God. I have doubts that I have been able to quell and others not. Doesn’t that make me human? Or just a blasphemous satanic nut. Driving at night puts one in a stupor, but everything seems more vivid. An otherwise boring uneventful American day just became meaningful.
7/13/09 I Cant Say No
7/14/09 Our Last Night
One more night until we leave. I keep tossing and turning thinking of all the things we will do, and all the things we will see. I can't believe I've already been in Pittsburgh for a week. To tell you the truth the whole thing is a bit of a blur as I was always looking ahead, not concentrating on the present. But what do you expect when you are about to embark on the biggest adventure of your life?
7/15/09 Up In The Air
I can't believe we are already on our way. Hours of planning and months of anticipation and the day has arrived. We fly from Pittsburgh to Dulles, Dulles to London, and London to Rome. I just hope I can sleep on the plane.... we will see.
My European Trip
I am finally online and plugged in. My first posts will be of the trip I took through Europe with my best-friend Zac, who is also spending a year abroad in Sweden. The story starts with my week in Pittsburgh before Zac and I left for Europe.
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